


Hunting death

by Mustlove11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustlove11/pseuds/Mustlove11
Summary: Grindelwald ruled England with an iron fist. Muggles are forced into servitude. Seeking for a better life, muggle Hermione tried to run. But Tom Riddle, the leader Grindelwald's secret army, stood in her way of freedom. hee would hunt her down until she's caught. Because no one can escape Voldemort. Dark AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello everyone. This is a prologue to a new very dark Tomione story. It is inspired by the first chapter of Brianna Hale's 'Midnight Hunter', which is a very good cinematic book that I recommend for you to read.
> 
> I am also looking for beta-reader to help me with this story, as I am not good with my tenses and grammar, and I need someone to bounce idea with and help me get out of the hole when I get stuck on plots or flow of the story or even sentence. I generally need a lot of help :)
> 
> If you are interested message me directly. Thank you and please read and review.

Hermione desperately tried moved faster through the Muggle quarter. The more distance she put between her and the Death Eaters the better. If Grindelwald secret army caught her, death would be a more preferable option.

But after an hour of running, adrenaline that had been fueling her had finally settled down.

She's starting to feel the icy cold wind of the winter night penetrating through her thin oversize coat. The wound from the hex had been bleeding through the makeshift bandage she tied around her calf. Pretty soon she would leave a trail of blood that will directly lead to her. It wouldn't have been a problem under the cover of night with only magical candles lighting the street. But, the white snow that covered the road make it very easy to spot red blood on it. And she's starting to limp from the injury. If a Death Eater found her now, she wouldn't be able to escape from them.

She needs to hide.

Fast.

But surrounded by the depilated buildings of the Muggle quarter outside Knockturn Alley, she felt hopelessness washing all over her.

There was no place to hide.

A sob escaped from her lips. The futility of her action is finally dawning on her.

Having live in the area for her whole life, she knew no family would ever risk their lives protecting a runner. And the building were built so close to each other that there were no nooks and cranies she could slip into.

She would either die discovered by a Death Eater or because or bled out on the street because her wound wouldn't close.

A loud meow interrupted her fatalistic thought. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an orange cat disappearing through behind a stack of woodcrates that covered the very narrow alleyway.

Hope rose through her body like a warm fire.

She couldn't fit through the alley but she could stack the woodcrates around her and wait for the morning to come. It would be easier to disappear with the morning crowd than to stand around in the dark like a sitting duck. She could disappear through the countryside and maybe then she could escape to one of the small island in Greece or made her way to Asia where Grindelwald's iron grip are not as strong.

But, as she started move the woodcrates around, a bright light in the sky caught her eye.

The Dark Mark.

The symbol of death.

The Deatheaters are near.

Fear shot through her like a bullet. Her heart pounded madly and all she could hear was blood rushing through her ears.

Panicked, she quickly barricaded herself behind the woodcrates. She prayed to whomever is listening to keep her safe from the monsters till' morning.

She didn't have to wait long. Her breath hitched when she heard several loud cracks of Apparition from a near distance.

'This is it.' She thought to herself as she tried to calm herself down as not to give away her position. She took several quiet gulps of air to slow down her labored breath. It would be very tragic to go this far only to be caught because she breathed too loudly.

She wished she could see where they were as the darkness and the crates were covering her view of the street. But she couldn't risk moving the crates.

"Search out within 3 km, they couldn't have gotten far."

His voice crisp and clear. Deep and commanding.

It had sent shiver down her spine.

She recognised that voice.

Tom Riddle.

The leader of the Deatheaters.

Grindelwald's right hand man.

Voldemort.

The dark Lord of Death.

She is fucked.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the late update, I know i promised to update every three days until chapter 3, but I suddenly had to prepare for my viva so everything else are put to the back burner. So, as an apology I will update the next chapter tomorrow. So, please read and review. I am also looking for a beta to help with the english and helping me with storylines. If anyone is interested please contact me.

A week earlier

“Ughh…If I had to clean Mistress Pansy’s bathroom again, I am going to kill myself.” Penelope Clearwater groused, as they walked to work, huddled together through the frozen street. The winter is coming early this year. With less time to prepare, this meant less food, clothing and wood for warmth available for the muggles. Which explained the general disgruntlement and discontentment in the air in the Muggle quarter, a crowded and highly ramshackled part of town where all the muggles are forced live.

Well, more discontentment and disgruntlement.

Ever since Grindelwald had managed to ‘unite’- or more appropriately conquer, thought Hermione viciously- the muggle and magical world of bulk of Europe and northern America 37 years ago, most muggles are forced to serve the wizarding community in some form or the other. Bulk of them were mainly relegated to back-breaking hard manual labour usually in food production and farming. But, if you are lucky- or unlucky, according to Penelope numerous times- you are assigned to serve the Magical community directly, mostly the elite and wealthy Purebloods. Though the work is slightly less labour intensive, it is infinitely more humiliating and degrading. Some –like Penelope- are in opinion that working the land is better than attending to whims and needs of the Purebloods. As Penelope always said, at least a turnip won’t hex you when you brought them the wrong sparkly mustard colour dress. 

“If, I can get away with it I would shove the toilet brush to her face if she tell me with that nasally voice of hers, ‘it’s not clean enough Penelope. Clean it again.’” Mimic Penelope, as she vented her frustration to Hermione.

Hermione just grinned in response. Having worked together with Penelope in the Parkinson’s family household for five years before she was moved to McGonagall’s household, she could understand Penelope’s frustration. Mistress Pansy Parkinson is one of the most spoiled and dementedly demanding mistress she ever worked under. Her mouth and wand are always ready with an insult and a hex. 

Thankfully, the older McgGonagall’s household is far more sedate and kinder to their servants.

“Everytime I saw her pug-face, I almost regret not accepting the McGonagall offer.” Complained Penelope.

As the second most senior maid at the Parkinson’s household, Penelope has the first dibs of any new offer of transfer. But, she had declined the McGonagall’s offer, thus it went Hermione, whom was below Penelope in seniority.

Hermione brows furrowed in worry, “You don’t regret it do you? I’m sure the McGonagall would be glad to have you instead.”

“No, no, I am just venting, I want you to go to the McGonagall,” Penelope turned to her, for once looked very serious and took her hand is assurance, “Mistress Pansy is horrible to me and everyone, but she is down right abusive with you, it was the right decision to make, I don’t regret it at all.”

Hermione never thought she could love Penelope more. Even though Penelope is few years older than her, they had close since they were children. They practically grew up together, with their parents frequently leaving both of them in the care of Hermione’ s grandmother when they were small. As it were, they were the only family they both had left in this world. Hermione would do anything for Penelope and knew in her heart she would do the same.

“Beside, I got my revenge on mistress Pansy,” She said with that conspiratorial look on her face, “ I’ve been steadily taking an inch on the side off all of her dresses and robes, so she’s been losing her mind over the thought of gaining weight.”

“She’s been fasting the last few days, so it had been bliss,” continued Penelope as they almost approach the gate separating the poor Muggle quarters and the Wizarding world, “ no more running up and down the stairs for her stupid not too-hot or too cold tea, and the housekeeper had been giving us her portion of the food, so it is a win-win.”

They both laugh at the thought, when Hermione saw a bright light popped out in the sky.

The green skull and snake symbol of the Death Eater.

“Hush Penelope… Death Eaters.” Suddenly there were swarm of dark clothed men appeared in front of them at a thunderous cracks. 

Unlike most of the professional wizards that Hermione had ever encountered, who preferred to wear either robes or robes with traditional suits with array of colours, the Death eaters are more austerely dressed. 

They were clad in black fitted utilitarian suit with black combat boots more reminiscent of muggle military uniform rather than a traditional wizarding suit.

Her grandmother told her how the Death Eater in full regalia reminded her of the Stasi. The secret police of East Germany after the Second World War.

And they might as well be the magical successor of the organization. They had effectively struck fear and repressed any notion of oppositions amongst the muggle populations and their sympathisers. They ruthlessly execute or punish any dissenters along with their family and sympathisers, regardless of their magical status. Hermione couldn’t count how many times she was woken up late at night, hearing screams from her neighbours being taken in by the Death Eaters for ‘interrogations’ and to never be seen again. Or how many public executions she had witnessed of a whole muggle family- including the infants- and sometimes with an odd blood-traitors or two from a mere rumours of dissent and oppositions with no hard evidence. They had so violently and effectively oppress the people, that they managed to turn friends and neighbours againsts each other to save their own skin. 

It was their duty to upheld Grindelwald’s belief that muggles are design to serve the wizarding-kind, and no other agencies before them had ever been as effective as the Death Eaters.

It didn’t help that their leader and creator, Tom Marvolo Riddle also known as Voldemort, is a powerful Legilimens. One of the only handful known Legilimens in world, he was highly feared. It was rumoured that he could read and influence your mind as well as fly without the use of a wand or a spell. Some even said that he could talk to snakes! Snakes! For what purpose and how that little tidbit come about, she will never know. With all the stories floating around about Voldemort, it was hard to separate the truth from fiction. Especially when he was rarely seen by the muggle public, unless he was hunting someone. 

While, Hermione generally did not believe every outlandish stories about Lord Voldemort’ powers and abilities, she still believe that he is as every bit as dangerous and evil as the rumour mill had said. You did not get hand-picked by Grindelwald himself to be his mentee when you were only sixteen if you didn’t have the same or even more capacity for darkness. If she ever sees him, she’ll probably run the opposite direction.

As it was, she could barely hold herself from full on sprinting away from the street filled with Death Eaters. There were so many of them. A lot more than there usually are for regular random check. Something must have happened.

“What’s going on?” she whispered to Penelope, she usually know everything.

“It seems like there were runners last night. One whole family just packed up and leave.” Answered Penelope in her own hushed tone, “It seems like it had caught the Death Eaters by surprise, so now they are checking everyone for alibis, I heard even ‘You-Know-Who’ is here.”

‘Good.’ She thought rebelliously, ‘Hope, they get away.’

Suddenly out of nowhere, a tall blonde Death Eater grabbed her by the arm, dragging her away from strickened Penelope.

“I don’t know anything.” She wrestled against the bruising tight grip he had on her arm. She might be at a disadvantage but will not go down without a fight. However, he was too strong, that her physical protest didn’t even break his stride.

She continued to struggled all the way only to stop cold when a heavily guarded tent came into view. This could only meant one thing.

Interview.

Muggle worse nightmare.

The possibility of an interview had her blood turned into ice. Frozen in fear, the Death Eater had to carry her the rest of the way into the empty tent.

Deposited none too gently onto one of the seat in front of large mahogany desk. Inside was sight to be hold. Despite, looking no bigger than broom closet from the outside, it was disproportionately bigger on the inside, easily three times as big as the apartment she shared with Penelope. It was a full office complete with a mini library brimming with books on wide and varied subjects. The sights of the books made her for made her moemntarily forgot her fears. She looked at the library with pure longing. It had been so long since she had read a book. She had to sell her family’s small collections when both of her parents were both struck down by consumptions. Not that it matters in the end.

Hermione shook her head. She cannot afford to get distracted or panic at a time like this. She needs to focus and calm down fast. These people will pounce on any perceive indications of guilt however slight. It won’t do for her to sit there shaking like a leaf while they interrogate her. She squeezed her bruised arm hard, allowing the pain to course through her. She focused on the sharp throbbing pain and allowed it to clear her mind completely. 

It worked. Her breathing slowed down and her heart stopped racing. Just in time to be greeted by a dark haired man, in normal wizarding robe, who just entered the tent.

“ Miss Hermione Granger, I presume?”

She barely managed to nod her answer. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. It had literally stunned her into silence. He has a jet black wavy hair contrast perfectly with his pale skin and classically beautiful features. He reminded her of old- school Hollywood actors her grandmother always told her about. However, she couldn’t help but feel unease growing at the pit of her stomach. It was his eyes. Although beautiful, they were also cold and hard. Make no mistake this man is as dangerous as any Death Eaters.

Her eyes followed him as he walked around her towards the desk-presumably his desk and sat in front of her. Even though a huge table separating them, with an exit directly behind her, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly trapped by the intensity of his gaze.

“Where were you last night at 11 pm?” His tone was soft but still display authority from his deep voice and commanding presence. She had to physically restrain herself –by holding onto the chair handle- from shivering at the sound of his voice. In a weird mix of pleasure and fear.

“I was at home, asleep.” She kept her head down and her tone submissive. Her experienced dealing with Purebloods had taught her that most of them extremely dislike eye-contacts from Muggles and considered it as a sign of disrespect worthy of few rounds of hexes and even curses.

She expected him to continue to pepper her with question, but instead he was quiet. He studied her intently without saying anything as if trying to gauge whether she was lying or not. The silence in the tent was deafening.

“I heard that you were friends with the Creeveys.” 

Before Hermione could even answer he continued, “and don’t bother lying, I know you had repeatedly took care of their children before.”

“What I want to know is if you have any prior knowledge of their disappearance?” he asked silkily.

“No.” she answered truthfully. She never expected the mild-mannered Mr. Creevey had the courage or insanity to risk everything to escape the regime.

For some reason beyond her comprehension, her answer had infuriated him. His face and body gave away nothing, but she swore his eyes literally flashed red in anger. The room vibrated in tensions. 

“Look at me in the eyes,” his softly demanded but it sounded menacing to her ears, for the first time since she entered the tent that she was in fear for her life, “tell me the truth.”

She gathered her courage, squared her shoulder and looked at him directly in his eyes, praying her voice won’t shake, “I swear I didn’t know, I Haven’t seen them years.”

She could feel the back of head tingle as he continued to stared at her intensely. It was as if he was trying to see through her soul.

He frowned. She guess whatever answer he gets from her body language was not what he had expected.

His face then return back into the blank mask he had on earlier. He went on to ask few more basic questions before dismissing her. No more demand to look at him in the eyes and no more threatening tensions. The change was so bizarre and drastic, she felt disorientated the whole time.

She still felt the after effects as she staggered towards Penelope who still waiting for her.

She pulled Hermione into a suffocating bear-hug, “ Oh, my god! I thought I lost you forever.”

“I am fine Penelope, really, they were just asking me questions.” She tried to ease Penelope’s while trying unsuccessfully to extricate herself form the hug.

“Fine, sure..You had been interrogated by the big bad himself, but you are fine. Sure” Penelope said, touched hysterically, as her hands flailed around in emphasis.

Her eyebrows burrowed in confusions, “I don’t understand.”

“That man who questioned you,” Penelope pointed towards the dark haired man as he exited the tent, her voice lowered down to a whisper “ is Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort.


	3. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing. It really encourages me to write, seeing all the nice comments. As promised, the next chapter.

“You are dismissed.” Orford Umbridge ordered, his voice dripping with arrogance and satisfaction.

Voldemort gritted his teeth in anger. He only acknowledged the Head of Muggle Registration Commission (or MURC) with a short tersed nod before leaving his office. He couldn’t trusts himself to answer with words. Because the first word would be the Cruciatus curse, and he would not simply stopped at that. He had been itching to show Umbridge his arsenals of curses and hexes, which would make Cruciatius curse looked like a mere tickle. 

The man had been lording it over him ever since Grindelwald had transferred Death Eaters under the purview of the MURC. The man was more of a squib than wizard. The man was so in-bred, he wouldn’t even know the right end of his own wand even if it poked him in the eye. Umbridge only manage to climb the political power so far –despite his limited intelligence and magical power- by pandering and flattering the ‘right’ people and claiming others achievements as his own. Parasite.

Umbridge had been especially vile, since his recent ‘bungle’ with Creeveys’ case. He had been scrutinising every decisions and orders he had made. More than usual. And it is starting to grate on his nerves.

He stomped out of the Ministry of Magic, refusing to stop when he approached by multiple people. They probably couldn’t wait to rub his face on his recent and only failure.

 

Voldemort was not pleased. All week he had been inundated with snide and condescending remarks and advice from adversaries and so-called ‘well-wishers’ because of the Creeveys incident. Vultures. All of them. They couldn’t wait for him, a mere lowly halfblood, to fail for having the power and intelligence to be considered as Grindelwld’s favourite and successor. It does not matter that the half of his blood that are pure are descended from the great Salazar Slytherin himself

He swore his wand hand literally shook from the effort of not Crucioing those parasites that came up to him uninvited to offer their sympathy and support- condescendingly- over his failure. All the grief he got from ‘letting’ the Creeveys ‘get away’ was almost not worth the effort of using the fabricated disappearance to flush out traitors among his ranks. 

Someone had been releasing top secret informations about his activities to his enemies and most importantly to Grindelwald himself, whom in his old age had become soft especially in the issue of Muggle, as far as he was concerned. Grindelwald -a man he considered as a surrogate father- had noticeably trying to temper his ambition and power in his council. 

‘They were just looking out for the best interest of everyone, Tom my boy, be patient.’

‘There’s no need for such brute force, my son, you can’t punish them for having a survival instinct.’

Voldemort shook his head in anger. It won’t be long before Grindelwald realized that he was a lost cause and seek another suitable successor. Someone more malleable. Easier to control. After all he had sacrificed, things he had done for the man, in the end he was just a disposable half-blood. Unworthy of the throne, not with half of dirty muggle blood running through his veins. He could feel rage bubbling through him. What he wouldn’t do to make those people suffer and eat their tongue. Literally. 

And then, there’s a little matter of the girl. 

Hermione Granger.

Young.

Couldn’t be older than twenty.

A common muggle.

Nothing worth of note from her looks and intelligence. 

Common brown hair. Common brown eyes. 

With the exception of her unruly shock of curls-barely tamped down by the low bun- she was the very definition of the common. 

However, it was she who had managed what he long thought to be impossible.

He had learned Legilimency from Grindelwald himself, and had shown far more aptitude for it more than anyone else. He was capable of not only reading the mind but also control it beyond what a simple ‘Imperio’ could do. No one had been able to block his Legilimency before. But, for the first time since he had mastered the Legilimency, he had been stumped by a mere muggle.

The thought was so incomprehensible to him due to its impossibility.

He didn’t even need to use Legilimency. The expression on her face and her body language had told him everything he need to know. She was so transparent like an open book, he even debated whether it was even necessary to use legilimency on her. But he did it nonetheless, not wanting to explain his inaction to Umbridge. Expecting to find not lies but rather some tedious memories and indication of her nervousness and fear, he was instead greeted by a mental wall that prevents him from accessing her memories or thoughts. 

It caught him off guard, that he thought that he had made a mistake. While it was not like him to make such a simple error, but there was a first time for everything, so he tried again with the same result. A wall that complete blocked him from every angle. It was a rudimentary attempt at Occlumency, that prevents access rather than conceiving a lie with your mind. A basic form of Occlumency that when used will be noticeable by a Legiliment. But, it was powerful enough to throw him out of her mind.

He had spent the last half hour after that trying to discern any kind of magical signature from her without detecting any.

It was all very curious. And more than a little bit maddening.

He had heard some muggles with higher mental fortitude were able to withstand the effect of Versitarum or truth serum but never Legilimency. This is because while Versitarum merely lower the defense of the drinker and can be easily overcome with a little bit of resilience. But Legilimency is a different matter all together. It is an outright direct attack on your mind –like cracking an egg to reveal its inside- and require substancial magic and mental strength to overcome.

And from every account she didn’t exhibit any. Other than the Occlumency. 

It is possible she’s a late bloomer. With the rise of squib births, it was not an uncommon practice for Pureblood especially, to ‘adopt’ out their infants suspected of being a squib to muggle family with money as an incentives. They rather condemn their children to live of servitude rather than faced the humiliations of having a squib as an heir or heiress. Grindelwald, to his credit, had been cracking down on this barbaric practices since the beginning of his regime. They were in same opinion that the old wizarding blood of a squib should not be tainted by dirty Muggles- no matter how worthless they are. However, if you are rich and powerful enough accomplishing such feat is not impossible. Especially twenty years ago, when such implementation of regulations are lax.

Voldemort smiled. It would make his day if Hermione Granger happened to actually be Hermione Umbridge. Such scandal had taken out more powerful men before. And it wouldn’t be out of character for the odious Orford-whom on numerous occasions had both uttered and displayed his disgust of squibs.

With renewed spring to his step he apparated to the Gaunt Manor. It had taken him years of wringing out favours –from his more reasonable associates- and ‘persuasion’-from his less reasonable peers- to be able to purchase back the Gaunt Manor. Now restored, it could rival the most opulent wizarding manor – even the Malfoy’s Manor. Most importantly the Manor is steeped in old magick, that protects the security and privacy of the owner. Nothing can come in the manor without his consent, it would have taken an army and then some to stripped down the ward. This made the manor the ideal place as an unofficial headquarter for the inner circle of his Death Eaters, away from the prying eyes of the council.

 

“Dolley.” he called his head house elf, as he settled down on the chair of his private office- which is just a bigger version of his travelling tent office.

 

A soft squeak materialsed a small pale grey skinned house elf who immediately bowed in front of him, “Master.”

“Summon Deo Nott for me.”

“Yes, Master,” the little elf squeaked out before disappearing to carry out his order.

Voldemort didn’t have to wait long, before loud crack preceeded by a soft but firm knock on his office door indicated Nott’s arrival.

“Come in.”

“Master.” Stood in front of him is a tall generically handsome young man. Deo Nott is a well-liked man in in wizarding society, known for being affable, charming and witty, with enough good looks, and family lineage and wealth to make him a highly desirable company. But don’t let his easy charms, youth and handsome visage fool you, hidden underneath is a highly shrewd, cunning and ruthless man, who’ll do anything to achieve his objectives. This makes him the perfect man charm the truths out of people without them knowing the wiser. While, he himself can certainly be charming when he wants to, Nott had a certain ease about him that never failed to put people guard down enough for him to weasel out their secrets from them. It was why Voldemort had chosen him for the task of finding out about Miss Granger’s ancestry over other more seasoned Death Eaters. While, Voldemort is partial to tried and true method of torture and blackmail, sometimes a little sweetness worked better- especially for a mere hunch so as to not burn a lot of bridges.

“Have you found out what I the information I want.”

“Yes, Master,” Gone were the façade of easy-going man about town, instead stood a dedicated soldier to his cause- much to his approval, “I’ve search around, it seems that Jane Granger- Miss Granger’s mother- was indeed pregnant for about 9 months before Miss Granger’s birth and the midwife who was present during the birth had confirmed that she had delivered a healthy female baby at the time.”

“Have you checked if her memories are altered?”

“No, her pensive of the event showed no alterations, but to be safe I’ve also checked if any Wizarding family lost an infant that are supposed to be around the same age as Miss Granger, but it seems all of them are alive and accounted for, in case of an exchange were made post-birth. No rumours of hidden pregnancies either.”

“How about her lineage, is it there any indication of squib in her ancestry?”

“As far as I know, no- she is a pure muggle with no trace of wizarding blood in her family line even from a squib, that being said I’ve only managed to track down informations as far as her great grandparents, most of muggle records are destroyed during the takeover and the Ministry of Magic at that time had not kept their records with squibs that completely left the wizarding world, so it is very hard to know with 100% certainty.”

“What is your opinion based on the evidence you’ve got so far?” questioned Voldemort, as he eyed Nott with keen interests.  
Nott hesistated for a moment. Voldemort could see it in Nott’s mind that he was debating whether to be truthful or to give him answer he think he wants to hear.

“In my opinion, there is no doubt that Miss Granger is a Muggle.” Nott replied firmly.

Voldemort nodded in approval. He has no need for suck-ups in his ranks.

Dismissed, Nott left Voldemort to ruminate back on the mystery he had on hand. 

Not a squib. Not even a descendent of one.

Then it could only mean one thing.

Muggle-born.

A wizard or witch born from a muggle ancestry.

Is it even possible?

He had heard that Muggle-born, while uncommon still exist before Grindelwald’s rise. Most of them had inter-marry with the existing wizarding family and now are a part of the wizarding line. But ever since Grindelwald took over, there hadn’t been any recorded or otherwise instances of witches or wizards born from muggle parentage. By now, muggle-born have been pretty much considered as mythical creatures closer to Heliopaths and the likes.

He needed to know for sure. 

Because if what he had suspected is true, he will have and edge over Grindelwald and all the purebloods that conspire against him in the power struggle for the command of the regime . And the best thing is they – in all their arrogance and set ways- won’t see it coming.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for leaving comments and kudos. Hope you'll enjoy the new chapter. It was a bit of a struggle to finish it, as I was stuck trying to construct sentences to describe what the scene that I want I, and I hope it conveys the threat and quiet but chilling menace that is Tom Riddle.
> 
> If anyone wants to help me with this story, please to hesitate to contact me. Thanks.

“What’s for dinner?” 

Hermione looked up from her cooking, to see Penelope head peeking out from their bedroom in the apartment they shared together in the Muggle Quarters.

“Potato stew, what else?” 

Penelope made a face at her answer, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that. They were lucky to even have enough food to have dinner, with the winter coming so quickly. Typically in this situation they had to settle with leftover lunch at the houses they worked at as their only meal for the day. But, Hermione understood Penelope’s sentiment, it can get very tiring to eat just potato day in and day out.

“What I wouldn’t give for a little taste of meat.” Penelope said dreamily.

“ It’s a good thing then that I have a surprise for you.” Hermione hold out a very small parcel of butcher paper.

Penelope eyes bugged out in delight, caressing the parcel as if it is made out of gold-which it might as well be given how difficult meat of any kind to be obtained by their class, “Please, tell me its beef… ohh.. Mione’ I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“I am the best aren’t I? Go, have a shower, the dinner would be done by then.”

Penelope bounded excitedly to the communal bathroom, as Hermione return back to her task. 

She was glad that everything are starting to return back to normal after the tent incident. News had travelled fast around the Muggle Quarters about her one-on-one interrogation with ‘He-who-must-not-be-named’. She had become persona-non-grata around the muggle community. Everyone had been avoiding her like a plague- and only interacted with her when necessary. They were afraid to be linked with her with such a huge bullseye on her head. And Penelope had only started to stop fussing and worrying about the incident. She was on high alert for the whole week, paranoid about every noise and bumps in the night and day. It was very hard to calm her down.

But with no more sudden interviews, people are starting to accept that the incident was nothing more than a very bad case of bad luck on her part. For once Hermione was glad everything had return back to normal. As awful as her normal is, it was her lot in life and she was used to it. Because she knows everything could just get significantly worse for people like her.

She continued her cooking, taking pleasure in the repetitive chopping and stirring. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t notice the hard knocks from her front door at first.

“Coming…” she yelled as she ran towards the door.

“Penny did you forget your ke…” the last word stuck in her throat as the what greeted her at the front door wasn’t Penelope but instead hordes of Death Eaters in their full black regalia. A haze of fear slithered around her leg and throat, rooting her to the spot- unable to speak or scream.

“Hello, Miss Granger.” A deep menacingly familiar voice greeted her, sending terror down her spine. 

Tom ‘fucking Riddle is here. 

He stood tall in the middle, the Death Eaters parted ways like the Red sea, clearing his way towards her.

It broke her out her haze, kicking her flight response. 

It must’ve shown on her face because as she was about to turn and run from the danger infornt of her, he stopped her with thinly veiled threat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

But fear must’ve clouded her judgement, as she disregarded the warning, and turned away from him, preparing to run.

“Think about this carefully Miss Granger, You are unarmed and surrounded by Death Eaters, bricks and walls, with ten-storey drop to the outside, are sure you want to do that?” he coaxed kindly despite the intimidations of his words.

She forced herself to turn back around and face him. Defiance written all over her face.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled patronizingly.

He turned around and addressed the Death Eaters that accompanied him, “ Leave us, Miss Granger and I are going to have a little conversation.”

The men bowed out and closed the door behind them.

Hermione could feel the sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room. The temperature dropped several degrees in the already cold apartment, causing goose bumps to run up and down her arms. The room became quietly menacing and twice as dangerous as before. Her courage from before had all but disappear into nothingness.

She was alone, defenseless, and trapped in her own home with Voldemort. The dark lord of death himself.

She almost wished the Death Eaters didn’t left. Surely, whatever the Death Eaters would do to her won’t be as bad as Voldemort would do to her.

“Aren’t you going to offer me to sit?” He asked with boyish smile as he stood there looking charmingly handsome. His dark good looks are set perfectly with his fitted black robe. His tone was friendly and polite as if, he was a neighbouring gentleman coming by for a chat and tea.

She was stunned into silent for the second time that night. The sudden change in mood left her unbalanced and uncertain what to do. The mood whiplash had made her unsteady on her feet. Feeling wobbly, she went to the kitchen counter for support, completely ignoring his question.

Rather than anger – as she expected for not answering him- instead he gave her a satisfied smile before moving towards the dining chairs in front of the kitchen and made himself comfortable.

She could see him staring at her intently at the corner of her eyes. It was like he was trying to solve some difficult puzzle. It felt highly invasive. And truth be told it was shamefully erotic. While, she had not been living under the rock for the last 20 years, her interactions with men were limited to work-related and tired flirting that stem from camaraderie rather than anything more romantic or physical. To be under such intense attention from an incredibly attractive and powerful man is exciting and thrilling.   
What the hell is wrong with her.

“Isn’t it customary for host to offer their guest a drinks?” He asked teasingly, breaking the silence. 

Hermione’s hackles raised. It was meant to be taken as a light jest but Hermione couldn’t help but sense condenscension hidden beneath the friendly tone. How many times had she been accused of lacking in manners and intelligence and was practically uncivilized- no better than animals- by virtue of her birth.

Before she could stopped herself, she hissed, “That, only applies to welcomed guests.”

She cringed. Does she have a death wish?

Damn her mouth. This is the same reason why she wasn’t tolerated very well in the Parkinsons’ house.

She tensed up and closed eyes as she anticipated the impact of curse or hex. But none came. Instead, he burst into raucous laughter that surprised her.

“I’ve open myself to that didn’t I?” He laugh. The sound was disturbingly pleasant and it tingles down her navel and settles there. Heavy and warm.

“Are you cooking dinner?” He directed her attention back to the simmering stew on the verged of bubbling over, “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

She hesitated at first, confused by the constant changing in mood of the room. Hot and cold. The man was playing her like a fiddle. She felt like they were both in game but she didn’t know the rule.

It was both frustrating and frightening. She desperately wanted nothing more than to escape the situation.

But with no other recourse, Hermione steeled herself and turned towards the stove and lowered the cooking fire. She could feel him boring a hole into the back of her head. 

She took a deep breath and focus her attention back to the cooking. She did her very best to ignore the man- who had effectively made the oppression of her kind into an art form-as he lounged in her kitchen without a care in the world. 

She let the sound of tip-tap of the kitchen knife to lull her into a meditative state, while keeping an eye out for the maniac and dictator-in-training behind her. 

A clear head.

She cannot let adrenaline and fear rule her thinking. Not with everything stacked against her. It would do her no good.

Calm. 

Despite his relaxed behavior throughout, it was clear that he wanted something from her. Whatever it was, he didn’t feel the need to keep Death Eaters in hand or even forcibly remove her from her apartment, as per their usual tactics. So, it must be something they couldn’t interrogate out of her. Something that is important that they want her to feel at ease enough, that they would risk leaving their leader alone with her with a weapon in hand. Sure, the weapon in question happened to be a dull kitchen knife that barely able to cut an onion on a good day and he has 131/2 inches of stick with unimaginable power, but it is a weapon nonetheless. But she need to be clever about it. With him so far away any strikes she gives him will be easily blocked by his wand. As uncomfortable as the idea of being physically near the most dangerous man in the world, a surprise close-combat might be her best bet to overcome him. However, she needs to first know what it is that he wants from her, before she does anything drastic. For all she knows, he might be lonely and only looking for dinner company.

“I am not looking for company, Miss Granger.” He whispered hotly against her ear, startling her to drop the knife.

It must be magic. She didn’t even hear any sounds of footsteps or even creaking from the very old and worn out floorboard.

“It’s not magic, I am just that good.” She can feel him smirking from behind, as he moved closer to her, his arms surrounding her- caging her in from either side. She was trapped.

She tensed even further. The ambiguous mood of the room had decidedly turned menacing. Whatever it was that he wanted from her at beginning, he must’ve decided he didn’t want it anymore. It was obvious that she was not going to escape this situation unscathed. She needed an exit strategy fast.

She glanced quickly to her side. His arms were lean but strong. Even without magic, she would undoubtedly lose in a struggle. She was outclassed in both physical strengths and power. All she had is the element of surprise. She eyed the knife mere inches away from her finger tips- and his. Her fingers twitched. Her only hope for freedom. It is so close she could almost taste it. 

 

“Not close enough,” He grabbed the knife away along with any hope she had of escaping the situation intact, “no freedom for you.”

Hermione’s blood turned icy cold hearing words from her thoughts thrown back at her. She thought it was just a rumour. To keep the masses in line and in fear. Could he read her mind?

“Yes, I could Miss Granger, it is very easy to literally read your mind.” He answered unprompted, gliding the knife along her bare arms. It was too blunt to knick her skin with such soft pressure, but the threatening feel of it against her skin was enough to raise her hair.

“I am kind of disappointed actually, I had expected so much from you,” As his hand absently played with the rings of curls that escaped from her messy bun, “but now you just wasted my time.”

“For that you have to pay, Crucio.”


	5. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, this is a short interlude before the next chapter. I actually written it as a part of a single chapter but it turned out too long to do that but too short to be its own separate chapter, hence an interlude. Hope you enjoy. and I am still in need of a beta.

“ _Crucio.”_

_Her body immediately fall to the ground writhing in pain. It felt like pieces of her skin and hair were ripped off from her body while her insides were boiling her alive. She could hear her bones cracking as her body contorted unaturally from the intense pain._

_And he didn’t let up once._

_Every time, she was on the sweet precipice of unconsciousness, he brought her back for new rounds of torture. And each round the pain intensified a hundred-fold from before._

_It was never ending._

_And the most terrifying part was his face. His eyes flashes red and his smile. Oh, the smile. It was the most genuine expression she had ever seen on his face. The naked glee he had over her agony was intensely the most horrifying thing she had ever seen. It was as if he was taking pleasure from inflicting pain in others._

_“Crucio.”_

_She let out a blood-curdling scream. She felt she was at the point of no return. The pain was so intense she thought that this might be the end for her. Death was welcome._

_Suddenly the pain stopped._

_She can feel cool hands caressed and soothed her face softly._

_It felt wonderful._

_Almost enough to take away the pain from the curse._

_She opened her eyes to see her savior only to see him hovering above her._

_Tom Riddle. His beautiful face furrowed in worry._

_“Are you hurt?” concern shone from his eyes as he continue to stroke her face gently._

_Odd._

_Since he was the one who hurt her in the first place._

_His hand moved to her shoulders, and he began to shake her, expression unchanging._

_“Are you hurt? Hermione?” he asked._

_Without waiting for her response, he continue to shake and ask her, “ Hermione, are you hurt?”_

_“Are you hurt, Mione?”_

_“Mione?”_

_“Mione?”_

“Mione?”

“Mione, Wake up!”

Hermione jolted up in surprise, finding herself underneath the cover in her bed with Penelope standing beside her bed with her hands on her shoulder, shaking her awake from the nightmare.

“Are you hurt? I heard you screaming a blood murder.” Penelope asked as she handed Hermione cool glass of water.

She took the water and drank huge gulps of it to settle down her racing heart from both the super realistic nightmare and being woken up so suddenly.

“Just a nightmare.”

“That’s the third time this week,” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, reminiscent of dream-Tom, “Is it about that night?”

Ah, yes. The night where she was tortured within the inched of her life. She could still hear panicked sound of Penelope, trying to make her stay awake after Riddle left her broken and battered on the floor.

She didn’t know how, but Penelope had managed to patched her up enough to work the next day. With no one the wiser. The last thing they needed was for people to find out that she was on the Deatheaters’ shit list. It was the easiest way to lose ‘friends’ and gain enemies and death quickly. They did not need more eyes on them. As is, they have enough to be afraid of with Tom Riddle and the Deatheaters, constantly looking over their shoulders in paranoia. Hoping against hope, that today won’t be their last day.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No, it didn’t seem like he would,” assured Hermione, though she herself was not 100% certain of the fact, “he would’ve come back by now or drag me to be interrogated.”

“May be you are right, but I hate this Hermione, feeling so scared all the time, I don’t even feel safe here in our own home.” Penelope sighed dejectedly, “I wish we could leave all this behind and finally feel safe.”

“Me too, but what can we do?”

Penelope fell quiet for a while before continuing slowly as if she was unsure of her own words, “Maybe we should.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should leave this wretched place behind, there is nothing holding us back here except for more fear and misery, and now torture- and it could be done,” suggested Penelope firmly with conviction, “ they haven’t found the Creeveys yet.”

“Hush Penelope, what if someone heard you – we could…”

“What? Be tortured with no reason or fear they would drag us from our own home to do heaven knows what?” She demanded a touch hysterically.

“We don’t know that.” She reasoned unconvincingly.

Deep inside she knew what Penelope had said was true. Before what had happened with her and Voldemort, the fear was more of an abstract concept. She knew how bad things could go with people like her. She witnessed first hand the interrogations, the torture and the public executions. But, she never thought that it would happen to them. They both keep their nose clean, head down and followed the rules no matter how unfair. Any dissents were kept between both of them, and were nothing more petty grumbles between friends. They were good people. Most importantly they were obedient people. They shouldn’t have been targets. They shouldn’t have.

It used to seem so far away from their reality, so it was so shocking when it is. And the fact that the attack happened without any rhyme or reason and occurred in their own home, had driven the point that their lives means nothing to these people and there are no where they could ever feel safe.

Never had the option of risking their neck to escape the oppressive surveillance of the regime, had became more and more enticing, each and every day.

“I hope you are right.” Sighed Penelope, worry still etched on her face. Stress were clearly taking a toll on her, circles underneath her eyes darken and she seemed to age significantly ever since the debacle. Guilt settled in Hermione’s stomach.

“I am sorry for dragging you into this, you wouldn’t be in the middle of this mess if wasn’t for me.” Apologized Hermione, she realized as someone that was close to her, Penelope would also bear the brunt of the suspicion, “ Maybe you should move back to you Aunt’s home, you’ll be safer there with your family.”

Penelope gave her a small encouraging smile.

“You know I literally rather die than live with my monster of an Aunt,” She grinned mischievously, lightening up the mood, “beside you are my real family now, we are in this together, you would’ve done the same for me.”

The feeling of calmness and some sort of relief flooded Hermione's entire being. She's still terrified and worried about their safety, but there is something to be said about being at the end of your line and not be alone.

Nice and safe.

And they can't take that away from her.


	6. Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am back! For another interlude. Don't worry the next chapter is on the works. This is just a little treat before the next chapter. I am also working on another Tomione based on manhwa "Cheese in the trap", though it is slow in the making since I am focusing on this story mainly. But, I find it easier to write this one when I am writing about something else, especially when I am stuck. A beta reader or two is needed. and as always, enjoy and review and ask any question you have. I'll try to answer it in the a/n without spoiling the story much. It also helps me to know if there is any confusion or plot holes that needs to be addressed when you do, and gives me idea for the next chapter. So keep them coming.

“ _Crucio_.” He cursed lazily. Her body convulsed enticingly on the floor. Her screams were music to his ears.

 

The sharp exhilarating feeling of magic left his body far much too quickly.

 

He had expected a much different ending to this evening.

 

He had expected to discover an advantage that will finally give him the throne he deserved, but ended up with a mere muggle.

 

He was so sure that she was magical. But, the subsequent Legilimency had proven otherwise. She cracked open like an egg. Every single useless thoughts and memories flooded him immediately. It was barely even a challenge.

 

Disappointing to say the very least.

 

Though, few rounds of _Crucios_ had cheered him up considerably. Thankfully, she’s more stronger than her scrawny appearance led you to believe and could handle more than a single _Crucio_.

 

However, as much fun as spending his hour torturing the poor soul, familiar sense of boredom began to creep over him.

 

This is such of waste of time.

 

Its not even worth of an _Avada._

He walked towards the girl and leaned down at her quivering figure, she still suffered from the after-effects of the curse. He grabbed her chin and pulled her face towards his. Her face were tear-stained from the pain but he appreciate she did vocalized her cry. He never could stand the mewling the sounds people made when cursed a little bit. At least she can take a little bit of pain without completely making a fool out herself.

 

It really is a shame that she’s not magical or a pureblood. He could always use someone with nerve of steel and can think logically in tense situations. The close-combat thing was some quick thinking. He’ll be hard press to find someone like her amongst the Pureblood set- as most of them are spoiled and entitled-ly lazy. But in the end she’s just a stupid muggle. By virtue of their magical blood, those worthless Purebloods are still worth more a thousand of intelligent and brave muggles like her.

 

It really is a pity.

 

Alas its not meant to be.

 

“Consider yourself lucky Miss Granger, I am in a generous mood today, so you get to keep living your pathetic little life.” He said menacingly down at her.

 

“Aren’t you thankful?” he said edged with unspoken threat.

 

She nodded, keeping her eyes tightly shut.

 

“Then convey it properly, or I would think you are ungrateful for my _generousity.”_

She finally opened her eyes and looked straight at him, tinged with defiance “Yes, my Lord I am thankful.”

 

He felt amused and oddly proud that she still had a fight left in her after all he put her through.

 

He pressed a mocking kiss on her forehead. And left her still broken an d battered, feeling inexplicably satisfied with the turn of event.


	7. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will like to thank everyone for the support and leaving such nice reviews. Keep them coming. Sorry for the late update. I was busy for awhile with my final thesis submission and I have trouble writing this chapter. It has been re-written several times. And to tell you the truth I am not completely satisfied with the end result. But I don't want to keep you guys waiting. And it is as good as its going to get without the help of a beta-reader (hint..hint hint..). As always please read and review.

"You missed her, she left already awhile ago." Replied one of the newer Parkinson's house maid she did not recognize.

Hermione murmured her thanks and pulled her thin coat closer to her body as she walk towards the general area the maid had helpfully pointed to her.

Part of their constant vigilance ever since the incidence, they both walked home together after work. And never once had Penelope ever skipped out on her. She even made her promised that if one of them got held up to wait for each other at their pre-assigned meeting point.

Never walk alone.

Penelope already paranoid on a good day, had iterated that sentiment so much she could figuratively felt tattooed on her skin

So, when an hour had passed with neither hair nor word in sight, Hermione began to worry. It is highly out of characteristic for Penelope to just leave alone without mentioning anything to her beforehand- with at least three days notice.

Panic started to creep into her core, speeding up her walk.

If anything happened to Penelope, she didn't know what she would do. She is basically the only family she had left ever since the death of their parents. She's the only one who made this living nightmare even slightly tolerable. If she's gone, it truly would become hell on earth.

"No!" Her ears perked up at the loud yell that sounded familiarly like Penelope's.

She broke out in full on run, her mind raced faster than her legs-imagining all the bad things that could happen to Penelope. The horrible thought pushed her to run faster until she finally reached the corner of the building that led to the dead end of the alley.

As she about to turn the corner, she saw a flash of bright red hair.

"Penelope, please."

Instead of threatening voice she had expected, it was earnest and pleading.

Intimate.

It stopped her dead in her track.

She knew she should've left immediately, given how highly personal the conversation seemed to be. But she couldn't help herself but eavesdrop, hiding herself better behind the wall of the alley that separate her from Penelope and her mystery man.

She was curious and somewhat surprise by his existence in Penelope's life. Almost everyone Penelople knew, she knew. And for everyone else, Penelope would usually tell her about them about it – especially someone close enough to provoke such fiery response from her. Or at least that's what she thought.

She carefully peeked at the guy. He was tall, thin, and good looking in a highly repress kind of way. He seemed unfamiliar but she recognised that famous flame red hair. He must've been a Weasley. A pureblood.

"Please Penelope, you have to understand –I have no choice in this matter." He implored.

"You could've say no." She replied mutinuously.

"I can't just say no with no reason, not with political alliance and advantage on the line, they would've just march me to the aisle with wands behind my back." He reasoned apologetically.

Penelope fell silent before quietly uttering the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard, "Me."

The man was rendered speechless. What could you say to that.

"You could've said me, I am the reason you had to refuse the arrange marriage with the MacMillan." Penelope continued, her tone turned earnest and emotional- abandoning her anger.

It was the most vulnerable Hermione had ever seen Penelope.

Strong, proud and infinitely sarcastic Penelope, reduced to such state. Her heart goes out to her. It took everything within her not just to march there and shake him and make him accept Penelope.

"You know I can't do that," he replied guiltily, after awhile, "it would be dangerous for you."

"You said that your family didn't care about blood-status." Penelope returned.

"True, but it is still dangerous for us to be openly together, others won't be so open-minded, they will split us apart with any means necessary."

"Then, what's the point of staying together, we should just end it now before anyone find out." Defeat was clear in her response.

"Please Penelope, I love you, I can't imagine life without you." He begged again.

Hermione could see Penelope's resolve wavered at the sincere pled.

The man probably could sense it too, and immediately reached Penelope's hand and hold it clos to his chest, "I could get you a house in the country, you could bring Miss Granger with you, you don't have to work and serve all those pureblood ever again."

That was definitely very wrong thing to say, as Hermione could see Penelop's expression hardened once again as she slowly pulled her hand from the man's embrace.

"So, the only pureblood I have to serve is you, Percival?"

"Yes, I mean no… I mean I just want to be with you." he said lamely.

"So for that you are condemning me to half a life in a country like some dirty little secret, waiting and pining for you to have enough spare time for me, while you get to live a full life with children," Her voice turned hard and bitter, "I assumed I can't have children of my own, can't have little half-bloods running around, might invite questions from other purebloods."

"I am sorry, I didn't think… I jus..wanted to be with you." He said after awhile, looking ashamed of himself and his half-baked proposal.

Penelope softened once again and said half consolingly with bittersweet smile, "I know Percy, but we knew from the beginning that this will never last, its better if we end it now while it can still be a sweet parting."

They just stood there, looking at each other with an intense longing and regret.

It was more than Hermione could bore, she turned around and left them the privacy they needed.

Hermione seethed in her anger of the unfairness of it all. They forced people like her and Penelope into low positions without any chance or hope improving them. They restrict everything they do, how to behave, and whom to fall in love with.

Poor Penelope.

Even the exalted Purebloods aren't as free as they thought. Though most of the Purebloods didn't realize it, they were also tightly controlled by the trivial rules they made themselves-however, most of them probably don't care. But, for those who cared, suffered for it.

Who cares if a Pureblood marry a Mudblood. Hell, their second-in-command, second most powerful wizard in the world is a Halfblood. Those stupid concerns about them diluting their magical blood is ridiculous. Clearly they can do that on their own with the rise of Pureblooded squib births.

"So stupid." Groused Hermione a little to loudly as she leaned back at their usual meeting point.

"Who is stupid?"A voice greeted her from behind, startling her.

"Penelope, you surprise me." Hand on her chest, trying to calm down her fast beating heart.

"Sure, sure, sure, did you wait long?" asked Penelope casually, with no trace of sadness that she saw before.

"Just a bit, I was getting worried."

"Sorry, sorry," she said with a smile, before continuing, "I was held up at the Parkinsons'."

Lies slipped through her lips easily. If she hadn't known the truth, she would probably accepted Penelope's word at face value. It made her wondered how many times she had been lied to without noticing.

"So, who was stupid?" She persisted, wrapped her arms around her as they walked home together, "you were murmuring by yourself earlier about someone being stupid."

"No one, just a bit stress out that's all." She said with what she hope was convincing smile.

Penelope narrowed her eyes at her, "Are you keeping a secret from me?"

'You're the one to talk.' Thought Hermione a little bit uncharitably.

"No secret, just some bullshit work stuff." Hermione waved off her question.

Penelope stared at her as if trying to discern whether she was lying or not. She must've been a better liar than she thought, as Penelope proceeded to shrug and continue to walk. Seemingly believing her story and dropped the subject completely before going on to a monologue about the ins and going ons of the Parkinsons' household

Hermione could've –should have- let the incident from the alley go. It was clear that Penelope won't talked about it. She wouldn't have made it a secret otherwise. She would've told her about the affair from the beginning. That being said she couldn't help but think back how heartbroken she looked then.

She's doing a great job hiding that now. All smiles and lightness. But there's almost unnoticeable strain at the corner of her mouth even when she's smilling and slight sheen to her eyes from presumably unshed tears.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione asked, "Are you okay?"

She must've caught Penelope off guard, because rather than more lies, she asked back with inscrutable look on her face, "Why do you ask?"

Hermione shrugged, "You just looked a little off that's all, did something happened today?"

When Penelope didn't answer directly, Hermione continued tentatively, "You know you can tell me anything right?"

"You can trust me. I'll support and love you no matter what." Hermione looked at Penelope meaningfully.

Penelope cleared her throat, before answering just a tad unconvincingly, "I am fine, really."

Maybe it was because Penelope looked like she was on verge of emotional breakdown, Hermione back down immediately and gently said, "I believe you, just remember I am always here for you no matter what."

They spent the rest of the walk home in silence.

It was awkward and painful.

The silence prevailed even as they settled down in the comfort of their own apartment.

She had never seen Penelope looked so broken and beaten down.

It made Hermione regret for pushing the issue.

But before Hermione could even apologise for over stepping her bound- bound that she didn't knew they had until today, Penelope beat her to the punch.

"You were right, something did happened to me today," she confessed wearily, "I wanted to tell you more than anything but I am still…processing, I just need a little more time."

Touched and relieved, Hermione went over and gave Penelope a big hug, "Take all the time you need and you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want, I just wanted you to know I am always here for you, whatever it is-whether you choose to tell me or not."

"Thank you." Penelope returned gratefully.

And she meant what she said to Penelope. If she feels the need to keep something for herself, she is going to respect that. Whatever comes their way, Hermione promised to herself that she's going to give Penelope the same unconditional and selfless support she had given her all this time.

No matter what.


	8. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm back with a new update. I would like to thank Ava.Safari for all the help and patience in improving this chapter. Thank you again for the help and beta-ing this story.

“Hermione my dear, could you please give this to the Mistress, you know she needs to take her pain potion before two.” smiled Master McGonagall genially as he handed her the two blue bottles.

She accepted them readily from the old wizard before leaving the study room with a respectful curtsy.

 

As much as she felt grateful to be serving the McGonagall household, Hermione couldn’t help but feel the constraints people like her had to endure being at the bottom rung of society.

When she first transferred here from the Parkinsons, she was culture-shocked to put it mildly. All the pleases and thank yous and most importantly treating people- no matter their blood status- as human beings was surprising to witness, especially coming from a well-regarded Pureblood family. Her past experience with Purebloods had been limited to the cruel and patronizing Parkinsons and their associates. The McGonagalls were complete 180 degrees from that. They are kind and considerate. She is forever thankful to Penelope for giving her the opportunity to transfer to this household.

Speaking of, she had been pretty distanced lately, which had put the threat of Lord Voldemort to the back burner. So much so, they had stop walking hime together.

Days after the alley incident- of which she was not suppose to be privy of- Penelope seem to be overcompensating. She was overly chipper and merry. It comes to a point that she seemed to be overextending herself in effort to show everything is fine and normal.

It made her literally sick.

Threw up every morning without a fail.

Penelope claimed it was food poisoning.

She guessed suppressing your grief would caused ‘food poisoning’.

But at least now, she stopped pretending to be happy all the time. And became appropriately depressed and withdrawn.

Okay, maybe not such a good thing after all.

Maybe she should just confront Penelope head on. Honesty is the best policy after all.

But, she did promised not to push unless Penelope is ready.

It’s like damn if you do and damn if you don’t.

Penelope usually handled stuff like this -feeling stuff- for her. She felt so out of her element, she felt like she’s swimming in a sea of indecisions.

It’s not a feeling that she liked.

Hermione let out a big sigh as she entered the kitchen. 

She wished she knows what to do.

“You’re looking a little pensive there Hermione?” Greeted the Matron Housekeeper genially with a friendly smile on her face.

Yup, definitely different from the the Parkinson’s household, where the staff-while not purposefully cruel- did follow the lead of the Masters and Mistress of the house. Lest they rose their ire and become the next target.

“I’m looking for Mistress McGonagall, I need to give her these.” She showed the two potion bottles in her hands with a grin.

“Oh, dear, did Mistress forget again,” Her eyebrows furrowed in worry, “I think I saw her going to the stables earlier.”

“Thank you Mrs. Potes.”

“Wait my dear,” Mrs. Potes stopped her, before turning around to retrieve freshly baked butter biscuits from the hot oven, setting them over the plate on the small silver tray with a cup of tea, before handing them to her, “be a dear, bring Mistress her afternoon tea as well, she likes a spot of tea with her potions, and come back here afterwards there be warm biscuits waiting for you.”

“You’re the best Mrs. Potes.”

She really love it here. Penelope would too.

Maybe she could ask Mrs. Potes if there is an opening for another servant. She heard through the grapevine that one of Mrs. Potes’ right hand woman is being scouted to be a head Housekeeper to another Pureblood family. Penelope could transfer here like she was suppose to. Working at the Parkinsons’ is already horrible in best of days, it must be hell in with a broken heart and an upset stomach. Plus, then she wouldn’t have to work so close to where the Weasleys’ live and maybe then she could finally take Mistress McGonagall on her offer to live in residence. It would saved them a lot of money and she doesn’t have to see him if she doesn’t want to.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Satisfied with the resolution she had come up with- pending few decisions beyond her control, it had put a spring in her step as she re-focus her attention back to the task at hand.

As she approached the stable, she could hear the distinct clipped tone of Mistress McGonagall’s voice. It seemed like she is having a pretty serious exchanges with someone.

Not wanting to interrupt, she quietly stood behind the wall of the stable’s entrance. 

She was half-listening to the conversation. It sounded like a discussion about some kind of transportations. She didn’t realized that the McGonagalls were involved in delivery business. She thought that they were strictly academic family. But then again, all of the Pureblood family have their fingers in many pies since businesses are inherited from their long lines of ancestors. 

Whatever, none of her business.

As she was just about to tune out the conversation completely, Mistress McGonagall said a name that picked her interest immediately.

“...Creeveys cannot be found anywhere?” asked McGonagall solemnly.

“Unfortunately not,” answered the tall burly man with dark brown hair, “All of them gone, our contacts on the other side told us that they definitely did not escape, atleast none that we know of, no one saw them on the boats or any of the safe havens, they were just gone.”

“Could’ve they escaped on their own?” hope peeked through her question.

“Possible, but highly unlikely, I think they are all dead,” The man lips thinned in anger.

Hermione had to hold in her gasp. 

The Creeveys were dead.

“Merlin, the youngest was barely a month old.” The man raked his hand over his hair in frustration.

“By the Deatheaters?”

“Yes.”

“I thought they were still looking for them?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Diversion tactic,” The man said confidently, “they are doing absolute minimum searching for the Creeveys, unlike when they were looking for the Warrens, everything they’ve done were just to keep up with appearances, for what purpose I don’t know.”

McGonagall looked pensive for a moment, before answering “Maybe it’s a trap.”

“For us?”

“I am unsure,” responded McGonagall contemplatively, “ I heard rumours that certain unapproved and unsavoury activities of the Deatheaters- even by Grindelwald’s standard- are reported back to the court, Tom Riddle is in a precarious position.”

“So, you think that the trap is probably for the snitch?”

“Maybe,” McGonagall answered, “even so we need to beef up our security, it would be highly stupid of us to fall for someone else’s trap.”

“Should we stop tonight’s shipment of muggles, just in case.”

“No, there won’t be another ship coming by in couple of months and these people suffered and waited long enough, they need their freedom, we just need to be on high alert,” McGonagall shook her head, “I’m going to ask our spy, if he knows anything about the ruse, til then there’s nothing we can do but be extra careful.”

Hermione was shocked, the McGonagalls and other purebloods actually helped people like her to escape the regime! Risking their lives and comfortable place in society for muggles just because you think it’s the right thing to do. It’s beyond her comprehension.  
“Okay, then I’ll send the message to Serenity to dock at Camwell Port tonight.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement, “Make sure everyone stay invisible until after 10, our inside man told us, the Death Eaters will be doing their nightly patrol of the dock from 8 till 9 tonight.”

“Noted.” 

Sensing the conversation was almost over and not wanting to be caught shamelessly eavesdropping, she quietly hid behind one of the haystacks in front of the stable.

When the man left, she put on the fakest smile she ever put on and brought her Mistress her potions and tea.

The next couple of hours was a total blur for her. She was so distracted from the revelation that she kept making silly mistakes throughout the day.

It had frustrated Mrs Potes to a point that she had declared her useless and sent her home early. 

Could you blame her? 

Her mind was still reeling from the fact that McGonagall, stern but kind Mistress McGonagall was a secret rebel. Helping muggles escaped the drudgery of life here. 

And that’s another thing, it seems like Mistress McGonagall and her band of rebels had successfully helped muggles decamped from the regime more than once. She always thought escape was impossible. The stories about the odd escape or two were just mere rumours. As it always happened to a friend of a friend.

Either the Death Eaters do a good job hiding the fact the bunch of muggles disappear at regular basis to hide the shame of their in-effectiveness or the rebels are too good at hiding their tracks. 

She’d liked to think it’s a little bit of both.

As she walked pass by the pristine Pureblood townhouses through the tight and winding back alley or as it colloquially known as the Mud Alley she thought that this did not have to be the life that Penelope and she led anymore. 

They no longer had to wait hand and foot on ungrateful and cruel Masters. Have their lives and livelihoods dependant on the whims and mercy of the same Purebloods. Even though the McGonagalls were infinitely better than most, as a Muggle, they were still limited and marginalised by their lack of magic. Hermione did not know what was waiting for her on the other side, but anything would be better than the burdens she lived under here.

For the first time she could ever remember, she had options. 

They had options.

Sure, she had dismissed the idea of escaping before- she thought it was nothing more that a suicidal fool’s errand. Now it did not seem like such an impossibility anymore.

It was still dangerous. They could still get caught and be tortured and killed for trying to escape. But having someone on your side- especially someone as capable as Mistress McGonagall- she couldn’t help but feel hopeful that things would finally going their way.

Hermione smiled at the thought and opened the door to their apartment.

What she saw immediately melted the smile and any happy thoughts from her mind.

It was Penelope- in their kitchen/living room- surrounded by floating chairs, cups, plates and whatever else they owned.

Penelope turned towards Hermione. Her eyes wide with the most frightened look Hermione had ever seen.

“Hermione...I think I’m in trouble..”


	9. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for being so patient and lovely despite the erratic updates. I have never enjoyed my time writing a story as much as this one. Reading the reviews and consistent support from some readers had kept up my motivation and ideas flowing even though real-life intruded sometimes. So thank you. 
> 
> Special Thanks to Ava.Safari for beta-ing this chapter. Thank you for taking the time to suss out mistakes and continuity error and for helping through plots.
> 
> FYI, the long promised 'cheese in the trap' inspired Tomione is on the works right now (active work), so please expect that soon. Maybe by next week if I can continue the momentum of writing nonstop. And don't worry I am still writing the next chapter of this story as we speak. 
> 
> I won't leave you hanging.
> 
> LOL. Get it? Get it? Hahah read the story first then you'll get it.

“Hermione...I think I’m in trouble.” Penelope was shaky with fear and confusion.

Their meager belongings were still flying around her, before they crashed down with a loud bang.

Spurred into action by the sound of someone moving around nearby, Hermione quickly closed the front door.

The last thing they needed was to attract the attention of their nosy neighbours.

Despite her own inner turmoil at the shocking and unexpected display of magic, she composed herself and approached the still trembling Penelope. Hermione asked her as calmly as she could manage, “Penelope are you ok? What’s going on? You better start from the beginning.”

Everything poured out of her friend, all the secrets, all the lies.

Everything.

How she met Percy Weasley. How he was kind and wonderful to her. How it started as an unlikely friendship and had developed into something more.

How it had resulted in a pregnancy.

A magical pregnancy.

Merlin.

“What should I do Hermione, if anyone finds out, we’re done for!,” cried Penelope hopelessly while holding her stomach protectively.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

Magical halfblood children were rare. They were considered not just an aberration, like muggles were, but also an act of defiance to the status quo. Why limit your options and keep the bloodline pure, when having a child with muggle will result in the same coveted magical child?

Halfbloods were typically killed in the womb along with the mother, regardless of their magical abilities. The only well-known halfblood to survive was Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort, raised by Grindelwald himself. Voldemort’s mother was a pureblood from one of the oldest and purest lines in the world. Even though the Gaunt name had been reduced in circumstances over the years, it still held the power to protect him.

The same could not be said for a Clearwater, a muggle name through and through. With Penelope’s display of power from the womb, it was just a matter of time before they were discovered.

There was no other option.

They had to run.

Quickly she turned to Penelope, who was still trying to pull herself back together, “We need to start packing now.”

“What?” confusion was clear in Penelope’s eyes, as she took in Hermione’s frantic form, that was busy trying to cram their stuff inside an old canvas bag.

“We have to go on the run, we have no other choice,” decided Hermione grimly, “Try to take only important things, we don’t want to be weighed down later on.”

“Run? Where would we go? All of England is under their rule, there is no place for us to hide.” Frustration and desperation came off of her in waves.

Hermione knew she needed to calm down Penelope first, then walk her through the plan despite the time crunch they were in. They needed to focus, not fall into a state of panic.

Carefully she dragged Penelope to their worn sofa and sat her down.

“I can’t tell you from whom I found this out, in case we get caught, but I know there is going to be a transport ship at Camwell dock around 10 pm tonight. It is going to transport us away from this place, safely,” she explained as patiently as she could, even though she could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins, begging her to move, “No more ships will be coming for months, and ….”

“..And I am a ticking time bomb,” Penelope replied, finally losing that manic edge she had since Hermione first arrived, “I trust you and I trust your judgement, let’s do this.”

Without saying a word, they continued packing as many valuables as they could carry in their own bags.

Hermione couldn’t believe that they were doing this. Sure, they had talked about it at length. Especially after Lord Voldemort had decided to drop by for a visit. But deep down she knew it was little more than talk. Sure, they were miserable and they almost always went to bed hungry, but that’s their lot in life. It’s the only thing they’d ever known and to think that they were going to walk away from it now, to parts unknown, struck fear into her heart. There’s no guarantee that the place they’re escaping to will be any better than what they have here.

No guarantee that it would not be worse.

But as she looked over her shoulder towards Penelope, any doubt in her mind disappeared.

Penelope had sacrificed a lot for her. She would do anything to ensure her safety and happiness.

Even if it meant taking a leap of faith.

Penelope would’ve done the same for her in a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry.” Penelope suddenly squeaked out, breaking the silence.

“For what?”

“For everything, for putting us in this position, for taking you away from working for the McGonagalls, and for keeping my relationship with Percy a secret.”

“No matter how nice the McGonagalls are, this place would be hell without you and besides, I’ve known about your secret for awhile now.” Confused, Penelope turned to face Hermione, who was busy trying to cram a few more books that her parents left her, “What do you mean you knew? How? When?”

“Remember when you were late to our meeting point last time, I kind of followed you and saw the two of you fighting, and before you worry, no one else heard or saw except for me.”

Penelope went quiet before asking, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“ I didn’t want to add more problems for you, it seemed like you had enough on your plate, besides I trusted that you would tell me eventually.” Said Hermione a little awkwardly, a little unused to talking about her feelings so openly, even with Penelope.

Suddenly she felt arms wrapping around her from behind in a warm hug.

“Thank you for everything and for not pushing.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied with a small smile, “Let’s keep packing, we need to go as soon as it’s dark outside. The dock is far away and we don’t want to miss our only chance of getting out of here.”

As twilight descended Hermione and Penelope quickly slipped out through the throngs of people coming back to the Muggle quarters from work. They went to the back entrance and hid in an alley until the coast was clear. It was imperative they not be seen, as they would be questioned for not being where they should be. Hermione was thankful for the cold of winter and darkness that enveloped them. No sane person would be caught loitering on the street when the weather was so harsh. The area became empty in less than half an hour.

They decided fairly quickly to stick close to the back alleyways as the shadows provided cover and had enough places to hide if necessary. Though, wading through the darkness and junk, while trying to be as quiet as possible, had slowed them down considerably.

It didn’t help that every sound, whether it came from a stray cat, or accidently kicking an empty trash can, or even the sound of families settling in their homes, had them scurrying to the nearest hiding place.

“We can’t keep doing this,” whispered Penelope, as they tried to extricate themselves from behind the smelly bin. Loud laughter from one of the apartments had spooked them once again, “We’ll never make it there in time.”

“Agreed, and we’re nearing the dead end anyways, so we’ll need to use the main road for a little bit at least, until we reach the corner up ahead.”

“What if someone is out there?” asked Penelope worriedly.

“You hide and I’ll have a quick look, if there is no one around, we’ll make a run for it toward the forest, we can go straight to the dock through it, if someone is there, we’ll hide for awhile until they leave,” Hermione quickly looked down at her wrist watch, which indicated 43 minutes past 8, “Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time to get to the dock.”

Penelope just nodded in response and hid herself behind what she thought used to be a wooden armoire.

Satisfied that Penelope had hidden herself well, Hermione silently made her way to the corner of the alley that led to the main road.

Carefully, she peeked her head out to check both sides of the street. The pathway was empty from behind, but her view to the front was blocked by an oversized Egyptian style vase filled with a huge bushy tree, that was all the rage in the Pureblood community recently.

There was no other way, she had maneuver out of the alley completely to look over the huge plant.

She took one last look to her left before cautiously moving towards the back of the vase. She peered carefully behind the leaves, using them to camouflage her.

Nothing other than cold night air blew by.

Relief washed over her.

Maybe luck was finally on their side.

The dock would be a short distance to get to once they reached the forest. The trees so dense that hardly anyone, magical or otherwise, ever went there. The dock, she knew from the conversation she overheard earlier, wouldn’t be monitored until after 10 pm. As long as they were careful and didn’t do anything stupid, they could slip on by and evade capture easily.

The only hard thing left for them to do, was to pass the main road without anyone noticing. Without anyone milling about on their front door, Hermione was feeling optimistic for the first time since they made their half-cocked plan to escape the regime this afternoon.

Maybe, this was not such an impossibility after all.

Hope bloomed in her heart, Hermione quickly turned around to go back to Penelope with the good news, only to be greeted by a hard wall.

It almost knocked her off balance, if it weren’t for the firm hands that steadied her.

Wait, hands?

Hermione froze.

In her fear, she forced herself to look up, welcomed by the face of the man of her nightmares, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“Miss Granger,” He drawled menacingly, “Fancy meeting you here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have any idea for a feminine version of Draco. I was thinking Dragana, but it seemed too far off from the constellation theme.


	10. chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I would like to thank every single reader and reviewer that had followed this story until now for their patient and support Special thanks to my beta, Ava Safari (I still can't write her proper name here) for being so patient and willingness o wade through my writing. Thank you.
> 
> For those who don't know, I have a new story called 'Brie in the trap'. It is a Tomione 'Cheese in the trap' adaptation. I will be alternating the update between the two story. So, I can have more time to think through the storylines for both stories.

Laughter rang throughout the drawing room of Malfoy’s exquisitely decorated townhouse.

It was a little too loud the sound a little too insincere.

It grated on his nerves.

Tom could barely contain his annoyance.

Attending parties and schmoozing were not his favourite,

But it was part of the job.

It was where most decisions were made for the whole of Europe.

Buried under layers of innuendoes and petty social maneuverings.

While he personally much prefered a more efficient and direct method, he generally never really struggled to get what he wanted from the court.

He had to thank his Muggle father for that particularly useful ability. He did inherit his father’s good looks, charm and manipulative skills. While his father had chosen to use it to sully the last direct descendent of Slytherin just to see that he could, he had much better uses for them.

For example trying to gain the support of Lucius Malfoy in ousting Umbridge from his post.

The man had overstayed his welcome.

While he had tolerated the man well enough, even though he is a vile, vindictive and self-important man. Tom always thought he was too much of an idiot to do any lasting damage.

What he had underestimated was how vindictive Umbridge could be.

He had been gunning for Tom ever since the Creevey incident had not really affected Tom’s standing in the court as much as he had anticipated. This was because for weeks before, he had been crowing to anyone that would listen that the Creeveys would be the end of Tom. He would personally make sure of it.

But when nothing happened, his tiny insect brain had somehow decided that it was Tom’s fault for making him lose face amongst his peers.

He decided to be vindictive and most of his trusted Death Eaters followed.

Thank Merlin; he was too much of an idiot to pull off anything more intricate than an afternoon tea.

His ‘spies’ were caught fairly quickly before any important secrets were leaked out.

However, now he had a huge liability he needed to take care of.

Hence, Malfoy’s evening soirée.

“Mr. Riddle, what do you think?” Lucius Malfoy suddenly asked, redirecting the attention of the whole room towards him.

Tom put on his best social smiles and replied, “ Giving the Russian unsupervised control over the base might seem like a small concession now, but you have to remember it is barely ten kilometers from the city port with access to East Asia, while we might not have an immediate plan to absorb Asia in general, it would be short-sighted of us to cut off that access.”

“But, Russia has been under our control since almost the beginning of the regime,” Some nameless and faceless person chimed in, “Surely, they will loyal to us by now.”

“Excellent point, but you have to remember that almost all of the higher ranking officers in Russia grew up on socialist values, let’s just say they see a lot of things differently from us especially when it concerns the Muggles,” rebutted Tom easily.

“Let’s not forget how we had to make the concession in the first place.” He reminded them gently of the Muggle rebellion that broke out in the city port because of their aurors’ lax control over the Muggle populations.

However, somehow the Russians had managed to turn the blame around to Grindelwald’s regime.

Claiming they were posted too far from the city port to monitor it sufficiently.

He wouldn’t put it put it past them to have actually organized the damn rebellion themselves. Though, he still can’t find any proof to support that.

“But, we can’t just leave the area unmonitored, the rebellion was barely suppressed in time, I’m sure there are still many left underground.” Lucius countered.

“Of course...what we should do instead of giving them unfettered access to the base, is to take younger and more malleable officers and trained them here before promoting and stationing them at the base under the supervision of our own people,” suggested Tom, “So, we are technically giving them what they want but strictly under our own terms.”

Lucius Malfoy smiled approvingly at his answer before moving the conversation to another less contentious topic.

Tom couldn’t help but feel that he had passed some sort of test with the Malfoy patriarch.  
If so, it would be a huge boon for him.

While the Malfoy family seemingly had no direct involvement with court business, at least publically. Anyone in the know, knew that despite them not holding any official positions in the government, they had a lot of sway.

As one of the richest men in Europe - with his fingers in supposedly all the pies- Lucius Malfoy had a lot of control over the regime, arguably as much as Grindelwald himself.

Whatever he wants, he gets.

It is hard to say no to someone who can financially ruin you and your whole family line within weeks.

Though he rarely used it, having no interest in the government unless it involved his business.

So, having him on his side can only improve his chances of taking over for Grindelwald later on.

Though, Lucius Malfoy never does anything for free.

While he had never been openly rude to him whenever they crossed paths in the past, he had never been more than cordially distant either.

So, when he had received an invitation to the exclusive Malfoy’s soiree, Tom was surprised and more than a little curious.

As far as Tom knew, he was not involved in any bills that were in any way related to the economy, he was generally not interested in those areas of the government, preferring to focus his attention on security and the military.

He looked around the room, and immediately recognized more than half of the guests. They were all either politicians directly or indirectly involved in advancing and protecting the regime’s economic interest, with smatterings of the world business’ magnates, or people who were useful to him in expanding or securing his business interests.

The only odd one out was him.

His curiosity intensified.

Lucius Malfoy is not the type of man to do anything without reason.

There must be something that he had that Malfoy wanted.

He needed to figure it out fast, because as a general rule he never liked to be blindsided by anything.

And Lucius Malfoy was a consummate Slytherin, manipulative, cunning and calculative.

It was never a good idea to be at a disadvantage with a man like that.

The sooner he deduced the older Malfoy’s intention the better.

“Dinner is served.” Announced the butler, putting an end to his thoughts as he and the other guests shuffled toward the dining room, with the purest sacred twenty eight purebloods seated closest to the host.

However, as he was about to take his usual place at the opposite end of the host, he was immediately ushered to the left of the Malfoy patriarch, a position usually reserved for the most honored guests or family members.

Confused, but not wanting to cause a scene, he followed the footman to his seat, in between Lucius and a young girl with a distinct Malfoy feature, long pale blonde hair.

“Mr. Riddle, I’m glad you decided to attend my little gathering, you are a very hard man to get a hold off.” Malfoy started, with a wide welcoming smile on his face.

Tom could almost mistake it for being sincere, if it weren’t for the calculative glint in Malfoy’s eyes, that looked incongruous with the expression on his face.

“Well, a man such as myself has to constantly make ourselves…useful, the day that we are not… let’s just say, shall not be a pleasant one.” he answered humbly, purposefully implying his Halfblood status to Malfoy.

His less that pure blood status may have hindered him more that it helped him, but on some occasions, such as this one, it has been proven to be useful.

He occasionally wielded his blood status like a weapon, because he found nothing makes a Pureblood more uncomfortable than acknowledging a freak of nature such himself.

A flustered man was more likely to slip up; they would do and say things they hadn’t meant to reveal.

Lucius Malfoy just smiled indulgently.

Not the response Tom had expected.

“It’s such a pity you couldn’t keep your mother’s name, she was the last of the Gaunt line if I’m not mistaken.” He continued, as footmen served the first course of the dinner.

Tom’s grip tightened around the soup spoon at the mention of his mother.

He just nodded in response while he kept his face passive.

He did not trust himself not to curse the older man.

His mother was a very sensitive subject for him.

“You would’ve had a much easier time with her name instead, even as tarnished as it was.” Lucius continued, ignorant of the fact that he was one comment away from being stabbed with a soup spoon.

“The Malfoy name, for example, has opened a lot of doors for me, it’s not just old but prestigious, anyone would find that it’s a name that could take them to the very top.” He said cryptically.

Tom eyes furrowed in confusion.

Lucius Malfoy, for all intents and purposes seemed to be trying to entice him to the Malfoy name.

It wasn’t as if he could just change his last name to Malfoy willing-nilly.

If so, every Tom, Dick and Harry would claim to be a Malfoy left and right.

Unless….  
His head immediately swiveled to the left, to the girl he had dismissed earlier.

Realization immediately dawned on him.

She was the reason Lucius Malfoy was courting him so heavily.

Lucius Malfoy smirked- his first sincere expression of the night, at Tom’s correct deduction, “Have I introduced you to my only child, Danica?”

“Danica my dear, won’t you say hello to Tom.” Urged Lucius softly.

The girl murmured her greeting, blushing heavily as she did so, before quickly returning her attention to the cold soup.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, with him trying to be nice and charming to the girl and the older Malfoy trying very hard to facilitate the conversation between Tom and his shy daughter.

It was truly the oddest thing he had ever done.

After dinner was done, he was summoned to Malfoy’s home office for a little privacy from the other party goers, who had moved on to the ballroom.

It was dimly lit, not helped by the dark furnishings, with only the moonlight and flickering candles illuminating the room. He was seated across Lucius Malfoy as they enjoyed their after dinner brandy.

“I’m guessing you have figured out the reason why I invited you here tonight?” he began without preamble.

Tom simply nodded.

“Danica is my only child, she’s sharp and intelligent though a bit sheltered and shy, she would’ve made a fine heir to the Malfoy name, it is unfortunate that she’s a girl,” He continued as he sipped the liquor, “The family name will die with her unless someone is willing to take the Malfoy name upon marrying her.”

While rare, it is not an uncommon practice for husbands to take their wife’s last name instead, especially if the wife is the last of her line. Essentially becoming the heir of the adopted name. Though, most men would rather re-marry some pretty young thing and try again and again until they got their true male heir.

So, he told him as such.

It was not as if Lucius Malfoy would have any trouble finding another Mrs. Malfoy, after his wife’s death a few years back. Despite his age, he was still a fairly good looking man and the Malfoy name and fortune could pretty much overcome any obstacle. It was not too late for him to have a proper male heir if he wanted.

Lucius just barked out a loud laugh.

“I am an old man Mr. Riddle, far too old to chase around a debutante young enough to be my daughter.” He dismissed the idea, “Beside, it would leave too much to chance, there is no guarantee I would get lucky twice with my children.”

“No, I much rather chose whom I am going to leave everything to,” Lucius suggested silkily, “You are highly intelligent, cunning and ambitious, you would go far with the right family name, and I trust you to take that family name to new heights.”

“But, why me?” questioned Tom, and then he added a little sardonically, “I am sure there are plenty of intelligent, cunning and ambitious Pureblooded second sons out there, who would happily kill their older brother to marry your daughter and take the Malfoy name as their own.”

Lucius just smiled.

“True, but it’s time to inject new blood into the Malfoy line, can’t have it risked becoming fetid, and you my dear boy are practically the last of your kind.”

He must’ve looked obviously confused, because Malfoy continued, “Have you not realized how many squibs were born recently?”

Tom paused at the question.

It was one of the hotly debated topics from mediwizards and witches to politicians in court. No one knew why squibs births were on the rise. Old held beliefs that the intermingling between Muggle and wizarding blood, was the cause of the squib births. But, the strict separation between magical folks and Muggles under Grindelwald’s regime, had nixed that theory completely.

Some idiot extremist had even put forth that it was the Muggles that had stolen their magic.

Idiot.

“It’s not a widely known fact, but way back when, even way before the Statute of Secrecy, the Malfoys had interacted freely with Muggle world, it’s how we had first amassed our fortune.” began Lucius with a sort of proud note.

Tom was surprised how candid Malfoy was being. No Pureblood would ever admit to owing their riches and positions to Muggles.

“One of my ancestors had even came close to the Muggle royalty, like our society today they also tend to intermarry between themselves, to keep the bloodline pure, so to speak,” he explained carefully, “It was then we noticed the effect of inbreeding, it makes the progenies weak, unstable and infertile, sound familiar?”

“The squibs.” He answered.

Lucius nodded, “That’s why every generation or so, to prevent instabilities to the Malfoy line, we have introduced a Halfblood into the family, hence you…. any less would have been detrimental to the status of the family name, unfortunately.”

“And I couldn’t think of a better candidate than you, like I said you are intelligent, cunning and most importantly you are hungry, I trust you would carry the Malfoy name to new heights, ” Persuaded Malfoy further, “Being a Halfblood is just a cherry on top, so what do you say?”

Honestly, Tom didn’t know what to think.

Marriage had not crossed his mind. With his good looks and charm Tom never had any problems getting companions, female or otherwise, but marriage was another thing altogether. He was a Halfblood and firm supporter of Grindelwald’s Muggle subjugation policies, at least before Grindelwald had turned soft with age, so he was unliked by both elitist purebloods and blood traitors. Too impure to be accepted into the elitist pureblood families and too ideologically different to ensnare a blood traitor.

“What is there to think about my dear boy? It is a mutually beneficial arrangement, Danica seemed to like you well enough, and with the Malfoy name behind you, doors that were closed to you would open like floodgates and it would take you to wherever it is you desire, even the throne itself,” enticed Malfoy further, “Hell, with my support you could even take back the Gaunt name, Gaunt-Malfoy has a nice ring to it.”

Still sensing Tom’s hesitations, Lucius Malfoy finally added, “It seems like you need time to think about this but don’t take too long, I’m a patient man but I have my limit.”

At the none too subtle warning, Tom gave the older man a polite nod of agreement before returning to the party, which by now was in full swing. 

His eyes scanned the crowd before settling on a group of giggling debutantes, which also included the shy and reserved Danica Malfoy. She, despite being the hostess, was content giving the stage to the more outgoing girls. Off to the side, she preferred to converse one on one, rather than holding court with larger masses of debutantes and admirers. She was beautiful in a highly refined way, with her icy blond hair slicked back to a neat bun and a pristine white dress with clean lines, eschewing the trend of curls and ruffles that young women seemed to favor these days. She was the epitome of pureblood elegance. Completely opposite of a certain Muggle heathen he knows with her untamable curly hair and fiery disposition.

He must’ve stared at her for far too long, because she caught him looking at her so intently. He flashed her, his most devastating grin, which made her blush and started a rather animated conversation with a red headed girl beside her.

He smirked devilishly.

Tom supposed if he had to marry someone it might as well be Danica Malfoy. Aside from the advantages of associating with the Malfoys, she was smart enough to hold decent conversation, if their earlier conversation about the merit of using fresh ingredients for potion making was anything to go by- and was not too bad to look at, if a little sterile and austere for his taste.

Most importantly she seemed pliable and easily controlled.

In other situation he would’ve said yes immediately to such an opportunity, if not for the less pliable and controllable aspect of said opportunity.

He took a discrete glance at the ‘aspect’ in question, who was busy entertaining a couple of foreign delegates, with flare and charm the elder Malfoy was known for. In spite of Malfoy’s pretty altruistic words of helping him succeed, Tom feared that by accepting the objectively easy way in, he would set up himself up in the long run, to be under the power of the elder Malfoy. You do not get to be where he is by not being somewhat of a controlling man. Merlin, the man himself even admitted that he’d rather choose his future heir than begetting one and leaving it up to fate.

And despite his dismissive attitude towards his daughter, it was clear that he was fond of her and he might not take well to Tom manipulating his daughter to serve his own needs.

No, he needed to think this through before he agreed to anything.

Feeling slightly suffocated by the party atmosphere, he quietly left through the front door of the townhouse for a little breather.

It was colder than normal but he paid it no mind, not even bothering to go back inside and put on his coat. He breathed in the clean cold air of the winter night, when he noticed a movement in the corner of his eyes.

He peered through the darkness and saw a woman hiding behind a potted plant. Judging from her serviceable brown dress she wore, she was more than likely a Muggle.

Tom could feel a smile starting to form on his face.

Just when he thought he was all stressed out without any outlet, a stupid little Muggle decided to break curfew on a pureblood road no less. His hands had been itching for a little torture the whole evening without any suitable target, until the little bird decided to fall onto his lap.

Stealthily he walked towards the girl, walking on the balls of his feet. As he moved closer towards his target, he realized he knew this particular Muggle. He would recognize that bushy hair of hers from anywhere.

His smile widened.

Ah, Miss Granger you have been a very naughty girl.

He lowered his breathing as he observed silently behind her. She appeared to be trying to peek at the road in front, which from his high vantage point were deserted at the moment.

He was ready when she turned around and ran straight into his arms.

That terrified look on her face was like a balm to his heart.

“Miss Granger,” He drawled menacingly, “Fancy meeting you here.”

She struggled against him futilely. Even without his wand she was no matched for him. His grip on her arms tightened. He could see the bruise starting to form on her pale skin.

His smile widened even further.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He warned softly. 

‘Bang!’

His ears rang from the loud sound and he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head before everything turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had decided on Danica in the end. It kept up with the star theme. Since she would be a completely different character than Draco, it would be better if she had different name.


End file.
